


How Friends Act

by burningsoftly



Category: Derry Girls (TV)
Genre: F/M, Season 2 spoilers, post prom episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-15 20:32:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18506548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burningsoftly/pseuds/burningsoftly
Summary: "There’s not really much point in staying around prom after you’ve been Carried."James walks Erin home after prom, as friends do.





	How Friends Act

**Author's Note:**

> This is a real short bit of something that's been knocking around since the prom episode. Everyone in the comments of my last Jerin story was so nice and this fandom has grown so rapidly that I'm just amazed and inspired by it everyday. I tried to make this fluffy, but I usually write a bit more angsty than this so it kind of turned out somewhere in between. Hope you enjoy anyways. Cheers xo

There’s not really much point in staying around prom after you’ve been Carried. After one last glare at Jenny Joyce and a stern lecture by Sister Michael, the girls begin their sad and sticky walk home. Except Clare. “Erin, it was partially our fault this happened. We should’ve realized sooner that she was trouble. I don’t think it’s really _ fair _ to make the prom committee clean up our half Carrie on their own.” And Orla. “Sorry Erin, but they haven’t even done the Macarena yet…” Grandpa Joe gives her a kiss on the forehead and tells her they’ll be home soon, before turning to James and demanding he get the girls home safe. 

 

They pass by Michelle and James’s house first, and while Michelle would usually continue and walk back with James, by this point the tomato juice was starting to dry and and Erin couldn’t really blame her when she gave them the finger by way of parting and headed inside. 

 

The walk from Michelle’s to hers was a lot longer than she remembered and while her head is spinning she kinda wishes James would break the silence. They’re never really alone together, she thinks suddenly. Sure, the occasional chat between classes or at the chippy across town before the others showed up. And they had been alone on the way to prom, but she had been so excited, so  _ thankful _ , that it hadn’t really occurred to her. Oh fuck, she thinks as the events of the night play over in her head. James Mcguire had taken her to her prom. She wasn’t even American, but even in Derry a boy taking you to a dance means something. It means you’re friends, she chastises herself, but she can’t help sneaking a glance over at him. He has his hands shoved in his pockets and he looks ridiculously well suited for formal clothes considering he’s 17 and only ever wears jeans and tennis shoes. He’s got a splattering of tomato sauce on his cheek and Erin has to stop herself before she does something crazy like try to wipe it off. 

 

“Can we hold on for a minute,” she finally says, hobbling over to the ledge on the side of the road, half in an effort to clear her head and partially to give her feet a break. “These heels are killin’ me.”

 

James joins her, hand held out aimlessly between them as if he’s not sure if he should try to help her or not. “Sorry, I didn’t realize. Of course, take your time.” He jumps up next to her and Erin tries to ignore the way his thigh is pressed against hers. Get it together, she scolds herself, it’s only James. For some reason she’s angry at herself: why was she making this so weird. James has stayed over in her room before, has seen her in her ugliest sweatpants, has seen her absolutely plastered. There was no reason the barest bit of contact between them should be making her so riled up. 

 

But then she meets his eye and she can’t stop her anger at herself from rolling over to him. He had no right looking at her all concerned and worried. Didn’t he know that’s not how friends were supposed to act. If Michelle were here she’d tell Erin to stop being such a baby, that beauty was pain and all that. Clare would’ve told her she should've worn her heels from last year's dance instead of the new ones since they were already broken in. Orla would have already taken off her shoes in solidarity, holding them high as they walked home barefoot. None of them would’ve stared at her with a look of complete and utter concern. For a moment Erin wants to snap at him, ask him what the hell he thinks he’s doin’ staring at her like that. Then she comes back to herself. This was James. James who had given up his convention to take her to prom, who always went along with their crazy plans, and who never laughed at her writing. She really shouldn’t be yellin’ at him, even if the way he was looking at her made her stomach twist up inside. 

 

“Did you see the look on Jenny’s face when Michelle grabbed her? I thought she was gonna murder her,” she says instead with a laugh, bumping her shoulder into his. 

 

He laughs back, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yeah, but did you see Sister Michael? I thought we were all going to drop dead in the spot.”

 

Erin laughs again pushing a strand of tomato red hair behind her ear. Sauce sticks to her finger and before she realizes what she’s doing, she’s reached up and smeared tomato across his cheek. He looks surprised and she’s glad for the darkness to hide her blush. “Come on,” she says hoping down off the ledge, willing her voice to stay neutral, “I’m about ready to pass out and you’ll have to carry me home.” 

 

“Wouldn’t mind,” he mutters behind her but it’s so quiet she doesn’t think she was meant to hear. Maybe that’s not what he said at all. Either way she doesn’t respond, walking ahead while he catches up. 

 

By the time they get to her front door she really is tired enough to drop. Her eyes are drooping as she opens the front door but something about his expression when she turns back to say goodnight jolts her awake. He seems shy all of a sudden, hands in pockets, staring at his shoes. She raises an eyebrow when he finally looks up at her and he takes a big breath. For one crazy moment she wants to stop him, clamp a hand over his mouth before he can say something stupid. Something that could ruin things. Change things. But that’s insane. They’re friends; what could he possibly say that could be that bad? 

 

“I just wanted to say thanks,” he finally manages to get out, “for not being too disappointed when I was the one who showed up at your door tonight.”

 

Erin scoffs, surprised. “Come off it James,” she says, shoving his shoulder in disbelief, “you were a proper Prince Charming tonight.” 

 

He grins softly but looks away and Erin can tell he doesn’t quite believe her. She didn’t believe it either until the words left her mouth, but James really did save her tonight. “I’m serious,” she adds, softer and genuinely, “thank you.” Before she can think better of it, she reaches up and presses a kiss to his cheek. She retreats inside blushing like mad and hoping to all the saints that nobody saw her kiss an Englishman,  leaving him holding his cheek where her lips were and a grin the size of Derry across his face. 


End file.
